Intelligence and After
by WI9
Summary: Alan Blunt is fired and vunerable. But that isn't his only problem. For an unknown reason, MI6 want him dead. On the run for his life he must think fast and find help in old & new allies to save himself and to stop a war that could change the world 4ever.


_**I'm almost done with some new chapters in my others stories, but until then I couldn't help to put this up. This takes place after Crocodile Tears and before Scorpia Rising. There's some spoilers alerts if you haven't read all of the series, just a warning. If you remember in Crocodile Tears, chapter 23: Simba Dam page 366, the Prime Minister clearly stated: "Remind me to call the Joint Cheifs of Staff. I think I should have a word with them about Alan Blunt. I'm afraid this puts a serious question mark over his judgement." This is my version of what would happen if the Head of MI6 Special Operations was indeed fired. This is all in Alan Blunt's point of view and he might seem a OC, but in truth Anthony has always hid his true personality from us. I hope you enjoy for I am quite proud of it so far.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. **_

**CHAPTER ONE  
**_Coincidence__ does not exist, because everything happens for a reason._

_~WI9_

It was raining hard in London. England was known for such weather. Being in the perfect spot on this wild planet to receive constant episodes of down pours and drizzle, even though our neighboring western continent, Canada, was constantly frozen.  
I watched the rain pelt down on my window, barely making a sound as it hit the three-inch-layered glass. Even though rain was common, it seemed to being pouring harder than usually with cracks of thunder here and there fitting perfectly into my mood. I sighed for the twelfth time that day. I was still over coming the shock, gradually taking in what had just happened only a week before. I usually took things pretty well, whether bad or good, but this time I seemed stuck in my neutral mood I went into when something traumatic happened to me. It was a mood in which I could heal, but somehow I felt I would never be the same again.

"You're fired." Except when you work for MI6, you don't get fired. You get burned. The simple and common words always seemed to fall the hardest on your shoulders. I, myself, had spoken them before, but I never thought I'd have to hear them myself. I felt a spike of anger rise up in me again. I had spent half- no; more than half- of my life working for them. Risking my life to save my country. And how did they repay me? By kicking me out into the street, that's how! I knew as soon as I stepped out from 10 Downing Street how much danger I was suddenly in. I was wanted worldwide by multiple terrorist organizations and powerful criminals. But now I had no protection from any of them. As soon as they found that out, I would be on the run for my life.

But I guess this was partly my fault. A lot my fault. Using fourteen-year-old Alex Rider was definitely not the most ethical thing to do, and I knew a lot of people that hated me for the decision. But what the didn't realize or understand was... I didn't have a choice. I hated using him as much as they did. If anything had happened to him, I'd never forgive myself. But when situations came where our regular agents would bide us no use or wind up dead... that was the only option in my reach. And I hated it. I remembered when the new Prime Minister told me that using him after his last mission was forbidden. I couldn't begin to explain the relief I had felt. So much had been lifted off my shoulders that day, but just a week ago it had all been added back on ten-fold.

I was lost. Not only was I in so much potential danger- but also if I didn't have to work- what was I going to do? I had to admit even in the deepest of depressions and anger, I was bored. I had often wondered what I was going to do if I retired, and sadly I had never came up with anything.

I sighed again and turned reluctantly from the window. I hadn't left my apartment in a week, and I had to get out soon or I would go crazy. But this was the only safe place I could be. The people after me would never guess I lived on the ninth floor of some random hotel. They would never find me here, and although I was safe, there was something that was constantly tempting me to leave and never come back. I took one last glance out the window and instantly a knot formed in my stomach. Straight across from the building was none other than the building housing MI6. It was disguised as the Royal and General Bank, and I had worked in that building most everyday.  
I turned away, not being able to stand looking at it. I headed back into the sparsely furnished room and fell back onto my bed. It was only five o'clock, but I already felt like falling asleep, a headache forming behind my right eye. A few minutes, and I fell into a restless sleep.

I awoke to a dead silence. I sat up and looked over to the digital clock on the end table. One-thirty A.M. I yawned and got up, heading out of my room into the living room. It wasn't a huge room. There was couch and chair with a coffee table, and a large flat screen TV hanging on the wall. To left was a small kitchen with a fridge, stove, multiple cabinets, and a bar counter. I wasn't worried about financial problems. MI6 had paid me well and it had added up.  
I headed over to the fridge and pulled out some microwaveable pancakes that usually wouldn't satisfy my gigantic appetite, but being in my neutral mood tended to make me less hungry.

I stuck them in the microwave and pressed a few buttons before pressing start. A light came on and a soft hum as it cooked. I sat down at the counter and placed my head in my hands. I had to get out of this building, but what was there to do?  
Suddenly, something caught my attention. A slight bang? I got up and walked into the living room. Suddenly, there was a click, and I found myself staring at the front door. It had come from outside. Instantly, I was on edge. It was a reaction I had to any unknown movement or sound. I quietly sprinted to my room and grabbed a handgun from my drawer. I remembered when I had first gotten the pistol. It was a Glock 19, specially designed for my use. In fact the trigger was fingerprint sensitive so only I could use it. I head back out into the living room and cautiously approached the door. I placed my ear on the fine wood and listened carefully. At first there was nothing, but then I heard it faintly. A whisper? Suddenly, I realized I was in real danger. I calmed my breathing and knelt down, silently cracking the door, so I could just see.

Two men were in the hallway. They were dressed in combat uniforms and had to machineguns. The one man had dark skin and a scar lining his cheek. The other was blonde and his skin was pale. I was surprised to find I knew these two. A lot of my agents had not known me even though I knew them, and these were two of them. But why were they here? What would MI6 want to break into my apartment for? I was confused, but that didn't put me off guard. I took a risk and stood up, placing my gun in the back of my belt. I opened the door the rest of the way, and step out into the hall, facing the two agents. They swung around to face me, seeming shocked and... scared actually. They just stood there like a deer in headlights.

"May I ask who you are, and what you are doing with two machine guns?" My voice revealed nothing, and neither did my emotionless expression.

"That's classified," the scarred-face man had spoken. I almost laughed.

"You're from MI6." They flinched.

"That's correct." I took a look at the guns.

"And you're here to kill me?" I asked, expecting a no. I wasn't surprised at MI6. Might as well capture and threaten me into not telling anyone anything, even though I had already signed the Secrets Act.

"Yes." I frowned. Wait... WHAT! Why would MI6 want to kill me! I didn't do anything! I admit my unethical tactics, but the boy spy was okay! So, why? I took a step back as they raised their guns at me.

"I think you got the wrong guy," I spoke calmly, raising my hands a bit; not in defeat, but to stall them from firing.

"I don't think so."

"We were shown a photo," the blonde one had spoken up. I wasn't supposed to have a file photo.

"Do you know who I am?" I could tell now that these agents were well trained. But not trained enough. Even the worldwide terrorist group Scorpia would not send their best agents after me. Although, now that I was unprotected maybe they would send them... but not alone. Even MI6 didn't send their agents without backup.

"In a few seconds it won't matter." They went to aim their guns, but I was too fast for them. I quickly had my pistol in my hand, aiming at the intruders. I shot as soon as I had them in my sights. Usually, I would have let people have a choice to back out before I shot, but I was out numbered and had no other choice. Two shots and they were both down before they could pull the trigger. I shot one in the shoulder and the other in the thigh. Thirty years on the field had trained me well. Instantly, I sprinted out of there. I got into the elevator beside me and pressed the button for the first floor. The doors closed before either of them could get to their feet.

As the elevator lowered, it occurred to me that more danger could await me on the bottom floor. If they were waiting for me, there would be nowhere to hide. I'd be a dead man for sure.

_Drastic times call for drastic measures._ I thought, looking up. I noticed the escape hatch on the elevator's ceiling. But how was I going to get up there? Third floor. I had to calm my breathing and think. Second floor. I jumped and landed my feet on the wall before pushing off and grabbing onto the hatch's handle. It pulled open, and I grabbed onto the ledge, hoisting myself up. I was able to crawl on top of the elevator, just as it reached the first floor.

I heard the bell as it made its stop. The doors slid open. I flinched as multiple bullets ripped through the air, ricocheting off the elevator walls. They wouldn't even have waited to see if it was one of the guest at the hotel? The blood drained from my face while I realized how desperately MI6 wanted me dead.

"Where is he?"

"He couldn't have gone anywhere!"

"Do you think James and Kyle got him? I thought I heard gunshots upstairs."

"They would have contacted us!" I didn't recognize the voices. More agents I had never spoken face-to-face with. If I saw them, I could probably call them by name. Not that I wanted to.

"Wait. Do you think…"

"The escape hatch!" I didn't have time to close the hatch door as I sprung to my feet. There was a ladder on the shaft wall and I grabbed on, quickly ascending.

"There he is!" I could feel the bullets vibrating the ladder below me, but finally I was able to climb high enough where the darkness consumed me. I kept climbing nonetheless. I knew I wasn't out of danger here and a sudden humming noise confirmed it. The elevator was rising! It would crush me if I didn't climb fast enough. I increased my pace, skipping some of the bars. It was to fast. The elevator was right below me and finally I was forced to stand on top of it.

Think! I watched as the ceiling grew ever closer. It would be a terrible way to die. Slowly crushed by tons of metal and concrete. Maybe I would pass out from the lack of oxygen as it was pressed from my lungs before I felt anything. No. I wasn't giving up now. Suddenly, an idea came to me. A deep breath, and I jumped into the air. With the rising elevator and gravity pulling me down my feet burst through the hatch. I landed on the two agents, knocking one of them out. I quickly grabbed the other's gun and knocked him out with the barrel. I stood and moved back. They were out good. A few seconds and the machine stopped, producing another small bell. The doors opened and I stepped out. I found myself on the roof of the building. It had been taken over by one of those sky gardens. Perfect cover for me.

I ran into the foliage and knelt down behind a small bush. I scanned the area. No one seemed to be up here. I got to my feet and keeping low, traveled further towards the edge. Something still wasn't adding up. Until they found a new agent to take on being the CEO of Special-Operations, the Deputy Head, Tulip Jones, would be in charge. She would have _never_ ordered this. She was my closest friend and ally. And plus, there was no motive. She'd quit before she took anyone else's orders to kill me. So, what was up? There was nothing in the skies that could harm me, so I risked heading into the open. I got to the edge and looked down to the bottom of the building.

My heart sank. Five other men were standing at the bottom, probably armed and waiting for me, but that wasn't what had caught my eye. Parked in front of the hotel was diamond stitching blue Lamborghini Murcielago. No doubt that this was Tulip's car. But that was impossible! She would never… I wanted to believe it, but I learned that you could trust no one in this line of work. Perhaps, she was against me now.

I forced my emotions into control. Grieving wasn't going to save me. I started to head back into the foliage when something caught my ear. The slide of elevator doors.

"He has to be up here." I ducked behind some brush and looked to the elevator. It was the first two I had encountered. They looked enraged, the blonde one limping.

"Search the area." They began walking into the brush. Suddenly, I remembered something. There was a ladder on the side of the neighboring building to the right. If I could just make over there and find a way across I'd be home free… or at least I hoped. I made myself aware of their positions and crouched over to the right side of the building. I made hardly a sound as I passed through the numerous bushes and flowers. Finally, I made it to the edge. I knelt on one knee and thought it over. I noticed a thick power cable connecting the two buildings. I frowned. It just can't be _easy_ can it? I stood and walked over.

_Only ten stories above the ground. Nothing to worry about._ I thought, finding myself resulting to sarcasm. I grabbed onto the wire with both hands and let myself drop over the edge, hanging by the wire. Thank God I wasn't afraid of heights. I then began to move across it, placing one hand after the other along the wire. I was almost across when my hand landed on a sharp cut of plastic. I bit my lip, forcing myself not to cry out. I continued on and finally grabbed the edge of the building. I hoisted myself over and sat on the ground looking to my injured hand now coated in blood.

"There he is!" I ducked to the ground, feeling the bullets fly over my head, tearing the air apart. What now! I couldn't out run machine guns! I grimaced and forced myself forward, army crawling across the roof. Finally, I found myself at the ladder. I waited for a break in fire. Finally, it stopped. But now what? If I raised my head, they were going to shoot it off. After a few minutes, I heard my queue.

"Is he still alive?" I jumped to my feet and grabbed onto the sides of the ladder, leaping over the edge. I heard more shots fire over my head, but I was out of sight now. I slid down to the ground and hopped off the ladder.

I quickly scanned the area. I probably had about five minutes before the contacted the other agents, and I was surrounded. I headed back into the open alley. I had a black Rolls Royce Phantom Coupe in a garage on the left side of the hotel. I ran to the back of the building and looked around. Surprisingly no one was here.

I headed over to the garage on the other side of the hotel. I had a key to the back door that the manager had lent me for times of emergency. I got to the garage, and pulled a ring of keys from my pocket. I found the one for the door and unlocked it. After putting the ring away, I calmed my breathing and took the risk of taking a look inside. I cracked open the door to see three men inside next to none other than _my_ car. I had to force myself not to grow angry.

"How hard can it be to get into a car!" one of them was saying, obviously having trouble. He looked Asian. The other two seemed Italian.

"Well, it does belong to the previous head of MI6. Their inventor probably messed with it too." I was shocked to realize that I didn't know these people. They were defiantly not part of MI6. So, what were they doing here?

"I give up. Let's just take a perimeter and shoot him if he gets in here."

"Right." The three men departed. The Asian was obviously coming my way. Before he turned from the car, I ducked inside, hiding behind a blue minivan. He walked over and took his place at the door, while I army crawled under the van to get to my Rolls Royce. I turned to see if anyone was watching. They all had their heads out the door, except for the brown-haired Italian, who wouldn't be able to spot me from where he was. I got up from under the car and quietly as possible unlocked and opened the passenger door. I carefully got inside and closed the door, not making a sound. I knew I'd only have a few seconds after I started the engine, but there was one more problem. The car door to the garage was closed. I smiled to myself.

_This would be fun._ I started the engine and quickly shifted it into drive.

"What the!" The Asian shouted, turning around. The red-headed Italian had turned too. I floored the gas pedal and the wheels screeched as they gained traction. I felt the car and myself surge forward towards the car door. My car could go zero to sixty in five-point-six seconds. And I had seven to spare. I didn't flinch as the car crashed into the closed door, ripping it off its hinges and toppling over the top of the car. The tires screeched again as I made a sharp turn. I looked into my mirror to just being able see the three strangers and two agents that had stayed out front when three went looking for me standing in their places, wide eyes, and mouths agape in my backlights. I couldn't help to smock as I pulled around the corner.

I felt a sense of accomplishment flow over me. I hadn't been on the field in seven years and I was proud of myself for doing so well. Not rusty at all… well, maybe a bit. My little celebration was short lived as I heard a screech of tires behind me. I looked in my mirror to see a black van approaching fast.

_Dang it!_ I forced the pedal back down and quickly sped up again. I sped around another corner and over a bridge, but I soon realized that I wasn't going to loose them at this speed.

Normally, the top speed of this vehicle was one hundred-fifteen miles per hour, but the Italian had been right. MI6's inventor, Smithers, had messed with my car and now I pressed a hidden button on the dashboard. A screen appeared with multiple options. I pressed one labeled 'Turbo Boost' and a lever appeared from inside the consol. I gave a slight smirk and grabbed onto the handle, pressing it down. Suddenly, a scream of ties, and I felt myself get surged forward as the car lunged. In three-point-two seconds at was at seven hundred miles per hour. My reflexes came in to an important play here. Unless, experienced for years, no one would be able to drive this fast. I often never used the turbo, considering there were sharp turns in the city and I would be hard pressed to dodge or stop for pedestrians, but at two in the morning, London had not awoken, and I was home free.

**And so the journey begins. Please review. I'd really like to know what you think.**


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